Russell's Sunshine
Once every week since Russell graduated from college he went home to Dunkirk, MD to take care of his grandmother. He pronounces "Grandma" like "Grandmaw", a little southern and a little country. I went with him once, her birds squawking and The Bells of St. Mary's playing on repeat were the chorus behind his kind voice shouting a cheery "Good morning, Grandma, it's me, Russell!" loud enough for her to hear as he sat her up in bed.
In college grandma had a stroke. Russell used to say, "I wish you got to know her before, she was such an amazing woman..." And then he'd tell me a story about what she did or said when he was a little boy, or raising his mother, or when she was a young woman before any of his aunts or uncles were born. He'd repeat with fervor the stories she'd told him so many times. Little did he know that getting to know her then, through his love for her, was the most beautiful way I could have ever learned about who she was.
One of Russell's trips home I got to see Russell sing her favorite song, "You Are My Sunshine" at the top of his lungs while she murmured along smiling at something that was familiar. And then they sang it again, twice, in immediate succession. And she sang and sang and I watched Russell watch her smile.
"She always had the best smile."
Today, at his house, in her room after her funeral - everyone pointed at the photographs tacked up to the board - "that's how she was!" they'd say "Always smiling." "She just loved life," they'd say.
She had 11 children and their children and friends that all filled up the funeral parlor. Each of us drove in separate cars to the cemetery because she used to joke about how she wanted to have such a long funeral procession she could look down from heaven and see it.
Russell's mom took the family back to the house and asked him to stay while grandma was safely put in the ground. I stood there beside him, after everyone had gone and watched him say his last goodbye. Walking back to the car, it was hot in the sun. His sweat stuck his dress shirt to his back and made beads roll down his cheeks like tears. Russell said, pointing at the sky, "It's been torrential down-pours all week and now look at all this sunshine!" and he smiled.
In college grandma had a stroke. Russell used to say, "I wish you got to know her before, she was such an amazing woman..." And then he'd tell me a story about what she did or said when he was a little boy, or raising his mother, or when she was a young woman before any of his aunts or uncles were born. He'd repeat with fervor the stories she'd told him so many times. Little did he know that getting to know her then, through his love for her, was the most beautiful way I could have ever learned about who she was.
One of Russell's trips home I got to see Russell sing her favorite song, "You Are My Sunshine" at the top of his lungs while she murmured along smiling at something that was familiar. And then they sang it again, twice, in immediate succession. And she sang and sang and I watched Russell watch her smile.
"She always had the best smile."
Today, at his house, in her room after her funeral - everyone pointed at the photographs tacked up to the board - "that's how she was!" they'd say "Always smiling." "She just loved life," they'd say.
She had 11 children and their children and friends that all filled up the funeral parlor. Each of us drove in separate cars to the cemetery because she used to joke about how she wanted to have such a long funeral procession she could look down from heaven and see it.
Russell's mom took the family back to the house and asked him to stay while grandma was safely put in the ground. I stood there beside him, after everyone had gone and watched him say his last goodbye. Walking back to the car, it was hot in the sun. His sweat stuck his dress shirt to his back and made beads roll down his cheeks like tears. Russell said, pointing at the sky, "It's been torrential down-pours all week and now look at all this sunshine!" and he smiled.
posted by j-e-s-s-i-c-a at 6:10 PM
2 Comments:
I must admit that was quite a beautiful remembrance. As someone whose late grandmother played an important role in his life, I can certainly sympathize with Russell's loss. Fortunately, we will always have the memories of these great persons in our lives, always being able to recall how wonderful this person was and how they made a small yet significant impact on the larger world. Most importantly, we will always reflect our grandparents every day in how we are. The mark they leave on us in indelible.
Thanks for sharing that beautiful story.
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